The Elven Hour
by Sailor Wolf4
Summary: A collection of short stories about my OC and Sam. All are divergent from the series. Not in chronological order. Will update whenever the muse takes me. Enjoy! Sam/OC Rated M for mentions of mature content.
1. Chapter 1

**The Elven Hour**

**Episode 1 divergent. Not meant to be a long story, just a one-shot completely different from the series canon and the fanfic world I'm creating for Supernatural. Just for fun. DO NOT EXPECT A NEW CHAPTER!**

***Note* Before people squawk about Jessica, please understand that this is a divergent story, so obviously things happen differently. Also, I have not edited this, so things that seem rough around the edges and/or too cheesy/easy/sueish/whatever are there because I don't care enough about this to actually turn it into a serious story. This was a plot bunny with no point to it and I just, well, kind of felt like throwing it in. Besides, this is my first Supernatural fanfic and I wanted to see what people thought of Brianna before I seriously used her in this world.**

***UPDATE* So, I decided to add to this as the muse takes me. This still isn't a full-blow story, so everything following will be one-shots (prequel and sequels) that may or may not be in chronological order. **

* * *

Hilariously enough, it hadn't been the arrival of my boyfriend's brother that woke me.

I had been dreaming about wolves, again, for the seventh night in a row. I ran with them through various landscapes, depending on the dream, and tonight my world of dreams was filled with large, dark, forests and a howling pack of nine. I wasn't a wolf, definitely not, but my small, but lean body, flew across the pine needle encrusted, snow drift laden, terrain. The wind had been cool against my face, but suspiciously warmer than my mind knew it ought to be for someone with human sensitivities. Granted, I wasn't exactly human (i. e. not at all), but my body and general appearance in my dreams looked human. My senses, however, were far from but. I could smell the scent of our quarry, hear the screams of our target's victim, and anticipate the obstacles on the ground before tripping over them. My legs fell in sync with my wolves. One of my hands clutched a silver-like rod that would morph into a bow when I willed it to. My eyes could see leagues in front of me and could, quite easily, peer through the dense dormant foliage and narrow in on the thing I was hunting.

From my lips left a language that no human fully understood and the wolves surged ahead. I saw the vampire and his victim. The rod in my hand formed into my weapon. I reached up, took out an arrow, and aimed. The shaft flew true.

And then I woke up. It wasn't impressive. I just opened my eyes and found myself in my and my boyfriend's room feeling nostalgic. The dream had been a memory, another memory. There were a lot of those lately Sometimes I woke up feeling thoughtful or missing the thrill and exhilaration of hunting. On other nights, poor Sammy had to wake me up as carefully as he possibly could from the nightmare that was my former life. He was very patient with me, not really knowing what exactly had happened to me five years ago, but believing it was some sort of childhood trauma that lurked in the back of my mind. I'd always smile at that explanation, but never moved to contradict it. I'd let my boyfriend believe what he wanted about the situation, there were just things I'd rather not tell him.

The first thing I noticed upon waking was the empty spot beside me in the bed. I turned, confused; this wasn't his usual time to get up and the man normally went for a run in the morning That was when my super sensitive ears picked up sounds of a scuffle near the front of the house.

Alarmed that it could have been one of my enemies looking for me, I reached under my side of the bed and picked up my gun and ammo block. Removing the safety, not particularly worried about hitting my brave boyfriend, I slipped out of our bedroom and cautiously proceeded into the living room. When I clearly saw what was going on, I rolled my eyes. Human, boyfriend fine, apprehend and call the police. I switched on the light.

"Dude who's this?" asked the blond man pinned to the ground by his neck by Sam Winchester, my boyfriend.

I raised the gun slightly, eyebrow raised.

"Bri, it's okay, I know him," Sam assured me.

That was all and well for him, but the problem was that I didn't.

"Who's this?" I asked.

The look that flickered onto his face seemed to be a cross between sheepishness and irritability.

"This is my brother, Dean," he said.

I looked down at Dean Winchester, the elder brother, and glared at him, "And you couldn't call or use the doorbell? You know, something that normal people do?"

He grinned and I rolled my eyes. Great, someone who took breaking into people's homes with as much moral regret as I did: i.e. none at all. Figures.

"And who, exactly, is this little lovely creature?" Dean persisted.

Sam glared at him, "She's my girlfriend, jerk!"

My boyfriend stood up and let his brother go, helping his elder sibling along the way. I unloaded the gun and clicked the safety back on. Dean looked in my direction with a thoughtful expression on his face.

"I though LA had laws about guns?" he asked.

I smirked, "Your point?"

He gaped at me for a second before turning to Sam and saying, while pointing at me, "Marry her."

We both blushed at that bit, though Sam's already tanned cheeks turned a few shades darker as well as taking on a slight red hue. It was, as always, extraordinarily endearing and one of his many assets that attracted me to him.

"Dude what are you doing here?" he asked.

Dean stood there, hands in pockets, glancing at him before saying, "Can we talk, privately?"

Sam glared at Dean, "Anything you have to say can be said with Brianna here."

"Dad hasn't been home in a few days," his brother said pointedly.

I didn't know whether or not Sam had heard the tone of voice his brother used, but he seemed to be adamant about booting Dean out of the house.

"So? Dad work's late all the time. He'll stumble back in sooner or later," he said.

The look on Dean's face told me that Sam wasn't getting whatever he was trying to covertly convey to him.

"Dad's on a hunting trip, and he hasn't been home in a few days," Dean said.

"Define a few days?" I asked suddenly in detective mode.

Funny thing was that I was in detective mode a lot in LA. It was amazing how many odd homicides happened in a city supposedly full of peace loving individuals seeking the betterment of the human condition. Just saying that makes my mouth turn sour. Anyway, my primary mentor, Professor Laurel Moruni, had emphasized me practicing my observation and interpretation skills (and research skills) in field experience. Since L.A. didn't have many good locations for archeological digs (none at the moment) detective work was the next best thing. I even had a cold case file on my desk that I had intended to dive into during the weekend.

"Bri," Sam started, but didn't continue when I sent him one of my looks.

Having a boyfriend who seemed to be both captivated and afraid of my eyes certainly had its perks.

"Alright, I'll throw you a bone, its been more than a few days," Dean said after a moment's deliberation.

I raised an eyebrow and folded my arms across my chest. He was still evading the question.

"More than a month?" I guessed.

He shrugged and nodded. I studied him for a few moments before sighing and shaking my head.

Now, had I been anyone else, I would have wondered why anyone would wait over a month to report a missing person who had gone on a hunting trip. Unfortunately for these two, especially Sam because he really didn't know that much about me, there was only one reason why anyone would wait that long that I knew about. Really, at this moment I probably knew more about Sam's secret past then he knew about mine.

"No phone calls?" I asked before Sam could say anything.

"Nope, dropped off the face of the earth, and this man doesn't normally do that," Dean informed me.

I nodded and then turned to my boyfriend who was giving me a confused look. I smiled at him in an attempt to reassure him of the situation. I walked up to him, stood on my toes, and pecked his cheek.

"Go talk to your brother," I said.

His blue eyes shimmered and he caught me before I could settle myself back down to my comfortable height. His lips gently brushed against mine and I kissed back as lightly as he gave. The sensation of his kisses sent warm pangs up from my stomach and circulated around my body.

"I love you, you know that right?" he asked as we parted.

I smiled, "Of course. You've been abundantly clear about that bit, Sammy," I paused for a moment before adding, "I love you too."

He grinned and blushed before we stepped away from each other. He followed Dean into the kitchen and I made my way back into the bedroom.

Being what I was I didn't actually need as much sleep as I acquired. I went to sleep every night to keep up the appearance of normalcy for both Sam and myself. Sam because I wanted to keep him completely and totally separated from my former life and myself because I wanted to forget, if only for a moment, what I was.

Kind of hard to do that when the dreams about the life I used to lead kept haunting me.

I took out a book on Celtic mythology and delved into it, silently waiting for Sam to finish talking with his brother. I was committing the current chapter I was on to memory when Sam entered the room thirty minutes later.

"Bri, I…" he trailed off.

I rolled my eyes, "Need to leave," I finished for him, "I kind of figured the moment your brother came in and said 'dad hasn't been home in a few days'."

He sighed and sat down next to me on the bed, "What about my interview on Monday?"

I shrugged, "There will be other interviews and I have seven different schools begging for me to join them. I don't care how much crap your dad gives you, he's still your dad. Be glad you have one."

I was referring to the fact (actual fact) that my parents were deceased and I was initially raised by the slew of aunts, uncles and cousins I had at my disposal in elvenland. Sam knew about half of the story, that my parents and a few other members of my family were murdered by some crazy cultists practicing dark areas of sorcery, he just didn't know the whole enchilada.

From the look he was giving me, though, I could tell that he had wanted me to tell him to stay. My lips curled into a small smile. He should have known me better than that.

"Sammy," I began and leaned forward to place my right hand on his left shoulder, "Go find your dad. Make amends with your dad. Spend time with your brother. If you're going to be late, either reschedule the interview or find another college. I will go wherever you go, you know that."

He returned my smile and leaned down to kiss me. We kissed a lot as a couple. It wasn't something that the both of us enjoyed and had engaged in since the third date. It was also the only boundary I would let him cross until a few months ago.

His kisses were always amazing. Even the first one we shared. For me, it was my first time ever experiencing lip-on-lip action, but he apparently had a bit of experience with the act. And he was patient, guided me through my severely insecure stage about my budding sexuality. Elves, you see, didn't have immediate sex drives and only experienced hormones of some sort quite a while after we fully mature into our bodies and magical abilities. Sam was a special case. Everything about Sam Winchester was a special case and I absolutely loved it.

When we parted, my eyes, which were a sort of teal color, sported a mischievous twinkle. I knew what this twinkle looked like. We had spent an anniversary in Vegas where the room we stayed in had mirrors everywhere.

"Tell Dean to take the guest room and that the two of you aren't leaving right away," I ordered, "You need your sleep."

"Uh huh, sleep is it?" and his voice dropped several notches into a deep husky bass as opposed to his usual baritone.

I grinned, "Well, sleep for Dean, you've already had some."

He laughed and got up to show his brother to the guest room while I put my book away and combed out my hair a bit. I wasn't particularly self-conscious about my appearance, but there were a few things that I kept track of. Speaking of appearances…

I lifted my right hand and inspected my wrist. Good, the Flamel Symbol was still going strong. Ever since Sam and I had met I had to resort to the rhunic symbols to keep up with my human appearance. There was something about him that made my body positively react to his presence and make my magic sing. That and he was sometimes so distracting that I'd lose concentration on a spell that was barely supposed to take any.

He was back the moment I heard the guest room door shut. Our own door closed behind him and he slipped into the bed, placing one of his large hands on my left hip. The other cupped the back of my head and he pulled me towards him for an incredibly intense kiss that set my body on fire.

My lips moved against his, practically part of his, and he slowly pushed me back onto the bed.

This was going to be the last night we'd be able to do this for a while. I hadn't, at the time, known how long we were going to be separated, but I had mentally prepared myself for it to be a lot longer than I think Sam had actually intended. It was actually kind of funny considering our differences. He was more introverted and serious, but outgoing enough to be considered to have an expressive nature. Sam was a pacifist and strongly disliked violence, something that didn't surprise me if what I suspected turned out to be correct, which it did later on. But, as cheesy as it is for me to say this, Sam Winchester completed me and will live to always manage to create a spark of oneness where we were concerned.

To put it plainly, he was the most amazing male entity I had ever met in every way, shape, and form. Which was why I was in bed with him now, allowing him to remove my clothes while I had to restrain my fingers from ripping apart his clothes and pressing our barren bodies against each other. It was why I gasped and whimpered his name when he entered and steadily thrust into me, touched me, nipped me, licked me, and pleasured me.

At the end, he held my naked body to his under the blue sheets, and gently traced circles against the bared skin of my shoulder with his thumb. We were both tired now, it was amazing how sex could tire two people out. When I had still been a virgin, my mind hadn't even begun to fathom they physical work out sex could bring with it. When Sam and I had first consecrated our relationship I understood completely. I had also been very sore after the first time. Now that wasn't much of an issue, but I was still tired. We had taken our time. The way he looked at me, with his totally adoring eyes, told me that he was memorizing every curve and sensation my body could offer before he couldn't be near it.

Sam pressed a lingering kiss against the top of my head. I smiled against his bared, muscular, chest and pressed myself closer to him. He was so warm. He practically radiated warmth and the heat of his body slowly lulled me into a dozing state.

"I don't want to leave you," he muttered against my bronze hair.

I wrapped my left arm around his lower abdomen and slid my left leg between his. I met his gaze.

"I know, but family comes first," I said.

His grip tightened around me and he pressed another kiss to my forehead. I closed my eyes and savored the feeling.

"You are my family, Bri, more than I think either of them ever will be," he said.

I shook my head against his chest, "I think you shouldn't count your blessings before actually taking the time to have a long discussions with them."

I sat up, missing the warmth of his chest, but feeling the need to look him straight in the eyes while I said this, "Try to at least get back on talking terms with your folks, Sam. They're your blooded family and, trust me, it will always be important, no matter how close or distantly related you are."

Gotta love that I was speaking from experience, an experience that, again, he partially knew the truth about. Story of my life with this one and it was beginning to bother me a lot. I didn't like omitting most of my life from him; especially the hunter bit.

"Bri, I'll try. I mean, I think Dean and I can repair something, but my dad is, well, my dad," he said.

I sighed and let out the final bits of pent up energy that remained in my body. It was three in the morning and I really wanted to get some sleep. After all, I was on call at all hours with my consultant work now that school was temporarily out of the way. I settled back down against him and closed my eyes.

"Okay, sweetie. I love you," I mumbled.

He shifted slightly, probably to get into a more comfortable position.

"Love you too, Bri."

* * *

Dean had been surprisingly informative concerning where the two were going and when he expected them to be back.

"I'll try to get this done before Monday," he had promised me.

I had shook my head, "No, you need to, convince him to continue looking for your dad if you can't find him. I've known him since the beginning of our college lives and he worries about both of you; especially your dad. Don't stop for his or my sake. We can worry about Law School later."

Dean had been stunned, I could tell. Apparently he wasn't used to this sort of thing from girlfriends. I hadn't really though much about it at the time, of course. I loved Sam and whatever made Sam happy, or was good for Sam, was okay in my book.

When Sam had come out of our house and approached the Chevy Impala his brother owned, Dean had pointed at me, clapped his other hand on Sam's shoulder and said, "Seriously, dude, marry her."

We both laughed at the bashful pout Sam gave us.

I hadn't realized that Dean and I were bonding at the time, all I knew was that our brains worked in similar ways and the main heart of our affection rested in the same place; Sam Winchester. I remember that, at the beginning, I felt sad that this was probably going to be the last time I would ever see Sam's older brother. He struck me as one of those family men who parents called on to watch their children at night when they couldn't find anyone else. And, as much as I liked to joke about it with Sam and I's mutual friends, I did want to get married to him someday. As much as I hated to admit it, Sam was it and I doubted that there would ever be anyone else.

They left quickly, not wanting to waste daylight hours, and I spent most of the day reading the Celtic Mythology book and committing it to memory. It was one of the few works of human literature from the 21st century written by someone who was more aware of the supernatural influence of the human race. Professor Moruni had practically ordered me to read it and compare it with the elven histories for similarities and human differences.

The next day, I was working a murder investigation and my time was taken up completely by the case. That didn't mean I couldn't answer my phone when Sam called, which I did, and the two of us talked for a while, with me even pitching my theories about the case I was working on for a second opinion. Strangely enough, Dean (nosy bastard) was the one who led me to the solution and I was able to help the L.A.P.D. close the investigation without too much hassle. As Sam had pointed out, it wasn't a particularly hard one.

As it turned out Sam was going to be back by Monday after all. He hadn't physically found his father, but the two had a very good idea where he was and what he was doing (neither elaborated). Sam called, assuring me that he would be home in a few hours and I told him I was looking forward to it. I did miss him; especially at night.

Unfortunately our reunion launched a chain of events I hadn't anticipated in dealing with. Even I couldn't foresee this shitstorm.

It was about nine o'clock at night and I was making myself a late dinner after an entire day of working on my thesis ideas for my Masters Degree in Historical Studies. The night was quiet and I had planned on staying up until Sam came back.

I was about to sit down and watch some reruns of The Nanny (a show I absolutely adored) when the doorbell rang.

Confused, I stood up and went to answer it.

To my surprise, Sam's friend Brady stood in the porch light waiting for me to let him in. Like with all the other times I had been around the man, my hair stood on end and every huntress sense I had acquired while killing off the creatures of the night rang out in alarm. Something was wrong with the guy, I had thought so ever since I met him, but I did my best to flip my waist-length bronze hair over my shoulder and pretend that his presence didn't make me feel like I wanted to rip out his throat.

"Brady? What are you doing here?" I asked.

He shrugged, "Well, Bri, I was just coming by to say 'hi' and to see if Sam was home yet."

I willed myself not to frown. Sam hadn't told anyone that he was gone. I should know, because he had asked me specifically not to tell our friends that he had left town. Now I was on the alert while feigning friendliness. Something was off tonight and I had a feeling that it somehow involved me.

"Nah, Sam'll be another hour. He was stuck in traffic," I told him while not specifying where.

"Ah, well, all the better then! Can I come in and wait?" Brady asked.

To my credit I only deliberated for a moment. After all, it only took me a moment to realize that I had assets Brady most likely didn't know about and could easily use them against him. I let him in. With his back turned and the door closed I bent down to readjust my pant leg and check to see if my knife was hidden in its proper place. I always kept the thing strapped to my leg when Sam was gone. It was best for him to not know that I had an arsenal of mystical weaponry at my disposal.

We talked about menial things for a while before Brady became oddly silent. I waited for him to say something, waiting for anything that might reveal the real reason for him being there.

"You know, it wasn't supposed to be you," he finally said after a lot of deliberation.

My interest piqued. Now we were getting somewhere.

I cocked an eyebrow, "What's that mean?"

He laughed a bitter sounding laugh that had my hairs stand on end, but I continued on with my innocent and naïve face.

"I mean, you're too good and the fact that you haven't noticed anything is a real miracle," he replied, standing up from the chair had had been sitting in, in the living room.

I feigned confusion. Now we were getting somewhere interesting.

"Brady, what are you talking about?" I asked.

"You!" he exclaimed and suddenly feinting towards me.

I pretended to wince at the gesture. I worked in a bit of fear in my facial features too, just to add to his ego. Keep him talking, find out everything you need to know, then off him.

"You and Sam weren't meant to be together! You came out of the blue, which was why I came in when I did with Jessica! Jessica was supposed to be the one here, in your stead, as Sam's lover! But, it doesn't matter, because I'm still gonna do the exact same thing to you as I was going to do to her!" he exclaimed.

I shook, but more out of rage than fear. Jessica and I hadn't been particularly close, but she had been the one to help Sam and I reconcile the fact that we felt more than just feelings of friendship for each other. Whatever was going on, I wasn't too happy with them trying to include Jess in things that didn't concern her.

"What are you talking about, Brady?" I asked and though my voice shook from anger, it helped pretend I was more afraid than not.

He grinned and then I saw the flicker in his eyes. They turned black and I was off of the couch in a flash, slamming my fist into Brady's face faster than the demon who was obviously not Brady could see.

I dashed out of the room and into Sam and I's bedroom where my phone was. I grabbed the thing and hastily typed to Sam: **Danger. Life-threatening. Brady a psycho. Don't come home!**

The closed and locked door blew open and I turned around to face the monster only to be telekinetically shoved into the far wall adjacent to the right side of the bed. My head made a dent in the plaster/wood on impact. Blood trickled down the strands of my hair and on my neck and I almost wanted to let out a string of obscenities that would have made my aunt proud.

I managed not to lose my temper… much. I mean, I guess I kind of lost it when I used the wind element to blow Demon-Brady across the room and into the dresser, but who could blame me? That blow to the head hurt!

My body fell to the ground and I barely managed to land upright. The world spun momentarily and I forced my eyes to regain focus. If I had to I would fight this thing blind folded.

The demon stood and I almost laughed at the look on his face. The thing was practically having a coronary over my attack! He actually couldn't believe what had just happened. I smirked and knelt down to take out my knife, but fainted fatigue while doing so. He pounced and I met him in mid-air with my knife bared towards his chest. The blade merely nicked him, but it was enough to cause him pain. I went at him again and we danced around each other for a good three minutes before the demon finally grabbed my knife-wrist and threw me out of the bedroom and into the hallway.

Just so you know, it actually does hurt to break a rib. It also hurts when some asshole demon stomps down on the arm you were using to hold you knife with.

I grunted back my scream of pain, but it was enough to warrant getting picked up by my neck and tossed onto the coffee table. The force of the throw splintered the coffee table and left me both winded and in pain. I didn't even want to know how much damage had been done. All I knew was that I hadn't needed to deal with this much pain in five years.

"Just think of what this is going to do to Sam's psyche when he finds you on the ceiling burning to a crisp? Think that might send him over the edge, Brianna? Think that might make him go crazy and start killing people?" he taunted.

I saw red. No one threatened Sam. No one would ever hurt Sam as long as I was alive! I pulled myself out of the wreckage of the coffee table and held my arm out and bent my elbow in a ninety-degree angle. My fingers curled into a fist and I met the black eyes of the demon.

I heard the slamming of car doors, but I couldn't be certain if it was help or not. I told Sam not to come home, hopefully he'd listen.

"Në emër të Kreut-Perëndi tre unë ju urdhëroj!" I started (translation: In the name of the godhead three I command you!).

Brady froze and the horrified expression on his face made everything much sweeter for me. My head was clear, all pain forgotten, as I focused on this.

"If you cast me out, Brady dies," he warned.

"Brady's been dead for a while," I said coldly.

Light gathered around my fist and the room, dark from busted light bulbs, lit up like a Christmas tree. I stepped forward just as the door to the front door burst open and thundering of feel was heard down the hallway. I was only vaguely aware of this and, to be honest, I thought that it might have been more demons.

"Kafshë e ndyrë i flakët, i pushtuar nga kjo botë e vdekshme dhe nuk kthehen!" I cried (translation: Foul beast of flames, begone from this mortal world and never return)

I opened my palm and Brady was convulsing and cursing my name and my nature. I wasn't surprised that he knew what I was. Not many races had the express authority to cast out demons.

The light centered in the center of my hand and I approached the demon. Evil Brady lunged for me and I wasted no time in slamming my hand into his chest and releasing the light into his body.

"Në emër të Tre Madhe, unë të hedh ty!" (translation: In the name of the Great Three, I cast you out!)

And, with every fiber of my being, I laid the demon to rest.

It took a moment for the light to die down and for me to see the dim wreckage of the living room. I frowned. Replacing the furniture was going to take some time.

"Bri?"

I froze. Sam. He hadn't stayed away. Of course he wouldn't, I realized, the man told me that he loved me at least five times a day, what on earth actually convinced me that he was going to stay away? I turned to look at him and focused a weak smile to him. This was going to take a lot of explaining.

"Hi, Sammy, we ran into a bit of a demon problem," I said in the most flippant manner I could manage.

Even I was shaken up by that one, not that I would ever admit it.

"What the-! How-? Bri, you-… You know about demons?" he asked finally.

I shrugged and winced. Hmm, broken collarbone.

"Yeah, there's a lot I know, to be honest," I replied, "What I want to know is why he came after me."

My vision blurred for a moment, but I managed to blink my world back into focus. And Sam, as much as I didn't want to admit to be dependant on anyone in anyway, was more world. A world that I just managed to temporarily unbalance.

"The light, what was that?" he finally managed after a few minutes of gaping at me like a fish.

"Fire, well, the lightcraft version of fire. The language I used is older than the Earth's core, so it's a lot more useful then some Latin incantation. Unfortunately, Brady's been dead for a while and I couldn't manage to save him. I'm sorry about that Sam, he was your best friend," I was rambling but barely noticed.

I managed to take a step forward, to touch him and comfort him. I teetered for a moment and then my knees buckled underneath me. I didn't hit the floor, though; Sam caught me. Apparently he was closer than he looked.

"Bri, we need to get you to the hospital! You're bleeding out!" he said frantically.

I smiled, "That's interesting… not as interesting as the swan dive I took off a seven story building once. That one was painful."

I was delirious, of course and a lot of what I'm telling you now is just what I heard from Sam and Dean who had apparently been in the room inspecting the dead body and touching it up to look like I had seriously fought back, which I had.

"Bri, stay conscious, don't go to sleep whatever you do! Dean's called the ambulance, they'll be here in a minute. Just hang on!" Sam pleaded.

I wasn't about to die, I knew that much. I was, though, about to go into a healing coma. With this looming to the front of my mind suddenly I knew that I needed to tell him something before I was out of it for a week.

"Professor Moruni. In phone. Call her. She had answers," I said as clearly as I could.

I blinked and tried to stay awake until the paramedics arrived just for Sam's sake.

"Bri, stay alive and you can tell me later," he insisted.

I smiled, "Love you Sammy."

And with that, I blacked out.

* * *

When I woke up again the first thing I heard was an annoying beeping noise. Everything was dark and it took me a moment to realize that my eyes were closed. I opened them, groggy but alert, and glanced around the room. It was empty for the moment. The walls were white. Medical equipment sat behind me measuring my vital signs. I glanced down at my uninjured arm and saw the IV. I made a face. Needles and I didn't mix very well. The door to what I figured was the hallway hung ajar and I could hear voices on the other side.

"You wanted to talk to me, doc?" that was Sam's voice.

I sighed and pushed back the sudden onslaught of fear that suddenly pulsed in my chest. None of this had been a dream. He and Dean really had been there when I blacked out. How much had they seen? If they saw the end, there would still be questions I'd have to answer.

"Well, she's been in a coma for the past week, but I think she might be starting to come out of it. Her brain functions stabilized to someone who is normal," came who I assumed to be my trauma specialist in reply.

"How long will she be hospitalized?" Sam asked.

There was a hesitant pause before the doctor replied, "That's the interesting bit Mr. Winchester. She's healed, even the head injury. I noticed the quick reproduction of tissue cells earlier this week and have been going over her medical history which turned out to be another point of interest."

"In what way?" Sam asked but there was a ring to his voice that told me he could hazard quite a few dangerously accurate guesses.

I frowned. How would he-? Oh. Right I told him to talk to Professor Moruni, my mentor. She was the only reason I even managed to stay under the radar for as long as I did. This demon attack, though, changed everything including my relationship with my boyfriend. I blinked back tears. The upcoming conversation between us loomed and I didn't even want to know just how mad he actually was.

"Half of her medical history's been redacted, for one. For another, that said half is this thick," I assumed the doctor made some sort of hand gesture to showcase the measurement, "and I have absolutely no access to them. The records I managed to get a hold of show a consistent pattern. She's a fast healer. She's barely been sick with anything, not so much as strep throat, and yet her vital signs are either higher than they should be or lower. But she's perfectly healthy. You girlfriend's a medical anomaly, one that is a relief to me despite how odd her condition is."

He laughed and I was relieved to hear that the sound coming out of his mouth wasn't bitter. It was his affectionate laugh, one he always had whenever one of my quirks came up in conversation.

"Brianna's the poster child for anomalies," he said.

I smiled despite how nervous I was. He said things along those lines a lot over the years. This was a good sign, right? Or was he just remembering the times where he thought I was human and, with everything being revealed, only wanted to remember the good stuff? Panic reared its ugly head again and I sat up in an effort to calm myself down.

"Will she be discharged, today?" Sam asked.

"No, I'll keep her one more night to make sure everything's normal, for her, and let her out in the morning," the doctor informed.

"Thank you."

"Now, while I'm thinking about it, I need to go see the professor. She wanted to talk to me about something," the doctor said.

"Yeah, I'm sure," Sam had that partially amused and partially irritated tone to his voice again.

I bit back a laugh. Professor Moruni must have given him a hard time.

Footsteps echoed down the hall for quite a while and hadn't died down when the door opened fully and Sam came in looking incredibly haggard. He froze at the door when he saw me sitting up.

"You're awake," he said with a hint of surprise in his voice.

I shrugged, "Yeah..." I thought for a moment and then winced when my stomach grumbled, "I'm really hungry."

He nodded, "Professor Moruni said you'd be. I'll text Dean and tell him to get you something. He's been inspecting the house."

I nodded, "Egg rolls, with sweet and sour sauce please?"

He grinned as he fully entered the room and took out his cell phone. Once he finished texting Dean the atmosphere between us turned awkward. Finally, he sighed and sat down in the chair next to my bed. When he met my gaze, his blue eyes sported that same kicked puppy expression he had whenever his feelings were hurt. Needless to say that I really hated that expression when it was directed at me. It made me feel ten times worse than I already did.

"You're mad at me, aren't you?" I asked.

"No, not anymore. I was for a few hours, but the professor knew enough about what you wanted to tell me some of it. Anyway, I can't be mad at you for this. I've kept secrets from you too, and they almost got you killed," he told me.

I laughed, a dry and sarcastic laugh, and shook my head.

"Sam I can assure you that this wasn't the worst collection of injuries I've had. I wasn't going to die," I said.

He fixed me with the most incredulous look I've ever seen him muster and I tried to smile, but just couldn't quite manage it. I really had broken his trust in a big way and it was going to take a lot to fix it, if ever.

"You're an elf," he finally said bluntly.

I nodded, "Yes."

"You're immortal."

"As anything with flesh and blood can manage to be."

"You can work magic."

"We like to refer to it as inborn power. Humans can't do what we do unless they are elven descendents. In which case we refer to them as witches and wizards," I explained.

"Right. You won't age… not like me?" he asked.

"No, not anymore. I've been an adult for ten years now," I told him.

"So you're one hundred and ten years old?" he asked.

His expression made me hesitate for a second. Damn, he really did go over everything with the professor! And the look on his face! He was barely holding it in! Tears pricked my eyes as I broke from his gaze in order to both hide them and blink them back. Stupid bloody tear ducts!

"Yeah," I finally managed while still not wanting to look at him.

"Bri," he managed after a while, "what made you think that I wouldn't notice after, let's say, ten years?"

"Rhune magic can mask my appearance if I wanted it to," I tapped my right arm which was wrapped tightly in a cast still, "I took a permanent marker to my wrist for that very reason."

"I had wondered about that," he said.

I nodded and closed my eyes. It barely helped stop the onslaught.

"I can't grow old with you, but I wanted to. I… didn't want you to get caught up in elven anything, so I kept all of this a secret," I said.

"Bri, even compared to mine, that's a pretty big secret," he said.

I didn't say anything. I couldn't and I wasn't going to attempt to justify myself. Professor Moruni, the elf woman who had a history of human husbands, had warned me this would happen and I didn't listen. The whole part of me not being human was something that was worth mentioning, no matter how farfetched it sounded. The fact that I was practically immortal and a huntress added icing to the cake.

"I'm sorry for hurting you," I finally said.

His hand clasped the top of my left, IV hooked, one and startled me. I glanced over at him, my lips slightly parted, and gaped. What was he doing?

"I know, Bri, I forgive you," suddenly his serious face melted into an embarrassed sheepish expression, "Actually, after seeing what elves actually look like, I'm surprised that you even noticed me."

I blinked before a grin spread its way onto my face. He looked so cute when he was insecure! I leaned forward, turning my hand held in his over so I could return his grip.

"Sam, out of all of the things you noticed, our appearances were an issue?" I asked.

He shrugged, "Well, the fact that you'd even wanted to be with a human kind of threw me off. Why us, though? Why leave your own people to be with mine?"

I sighed, "I take it that Professor Moruni hasn't informed you about the political part of my voluntary exile."

Judging by the way his eyebrows furrowed I thought that was a safe assumption.

"Well, I won't tell you the whole of it, believe me you probably don't want to know about it, but I will tell you that the elven nobility wants to use me for one thing and the hunters and the wizard council want to keep me out of it," I explained as vaguely as I could.

This stuff was something I wanted as far away from Sam Winchester as I could possibly manage. There was no way I was going to involve him in that stuff; especially if I was no longer involved in the first place.

"I'm a hunter. My mom was killed by a yellow-eyed demon when I was six months old. Our dad's hunting the bastard," Sam told me after a while.

Yellow-eyed demon? I decided to not dwell a lot on that part.

"I'm sorry," I whispered.

"Hey, Bri, it's okay, we'll get through this," he insisted.

I looked away again.

"Will we? Can you trust me?" I asked.

He sighed, "Bri, as much as your omitting details about your life bothers me, I'll get over it. I mean, it's out now and, well, you haven't changed. You're still you."

I smiled and looked back at him. He sat there holding my hand and waited for me to say something.

"You know I'm not holding any of your secrets against you, right?" I asked just to make sure.

Since he suddenly looked slack-jawed I figured that that had been the case for him. Laughing, I shook my head.

"What a pair we make. Two people with all, or most, of the cards out in the open and neither of us know what to do about it!" I exclaimed in a faux dramatic voice.

We both laughed. Really, our situation was certainly ridiculous, and that was how Sam's older brother found us a few seconds later when he walked through the open door.

"Good morning kids! With me I bring the lady in distress eight egg rolls, four vegetable and four pork, along with about two large cups of sweet and sour sauce," he walked over to my bed and set down the paper back he carried from some random Chinese restaurant I didn't know about, "And Sammy and I get burgers. Love a good burger. Fills you up quite nicely!"

I opened my bag and drew out the sauce, opening one cup, and then going back for one of the egg rolls. It wasn't long before I started inhaling the food he gave me. Apparently my body expended a lot of unused energy to heal me.

"Hearty appetite," Dean remarked while digging into his burger.

The smell wafted into my sensitive nose and my mouth watered more than it already was.

"Damn, should have thought to ask for a bacon burger," I muttered while diving for another egg roll.

Dean stared at me for a second before turning to his brother with the most pointed look on his face I had ever seen.

"Seriously dude, marry her."

Now I was curious about that proclamation where Sam was blushing and muttered 'shut up' under his breath. I had lied to Sam for four years, why did Dean still seem to approve of me?

"Aren't you mad at me?" I asked.

He shrugged, "Davis, I didn't even believe elves existed until eight days ago, so I probably would have though you were insane or killed you for being a witch. Sam's reaction would have been similar if we hadn't seen you burn out that hellspawn."

Oh, well, that was alright then.

Sam grinned and shook his head before glancing back in my direction, "How did the demon get in, anyway. I keep the house sealed."

"Ha!" Dean exclaimed and we both looked at him.

He sent us a sheepish grin, "Carry on."

I sighed and leaned my head back to stare at the ceiling. I really must have been that much out of practice if I hadn't noticed Brady was possessed for this long.

"I let him in and didn't realize what he was. I suspected something was wrong and wanted to figure out what it was," I explained.

"Sounds like you're out of practice," Dean remarked.

I stuck my tongue out at him. He raised an eyebrow.

"Ooh, that showed me!"

"How old are you two again?" Sam asked.

And we laughed.

***Note* Sorry about crapping out at the end. I just got really tired of writing this and wanted to actually post something for a change. So, ta da! Like it? Hate it? DESPISE IT? Review and tell me what you think... er constructively. **


	2. Chapter 2

**How I Met Your Mother**

**Author's note: Hi! So, I know I didn't plan on writing anything else for this verse, but this was another plot bunny that hit me, so I decided to take a stab at it. From the first story, you already know that Brianna (my OC) and Sam were dating and that Sam never dated Jessica. Well, this is the ultimate prequel that started it all, about how they both first met and how they managed to become friends. I'm telling this from Sam's POV since, in the actual chapter series of stories that I'm writing for the Supernatural fandom I do switch POV's from Brianna to Sam later in the series. This is practice. Enjoy!**

~Sam~

I had four whole months of the summer holidays to deal with my residual anger towards my father. Dean had tried calling me at first, but I refused to answer. I loved my brother and all, but I knew that he'd try to get me to come home, possibly drop college, and go back to hunting with the family. "The family business" as he sometimes jokingly referred it to. The name was accurate, and I'll admit that I sometimes enjoyed it when I researched the lore, but like with most children born into a "family business" I wanted to do something else. Like major in law.

Besides, Stanford was supposed to be one of the best schools in the country and I didn't want to turn them down just because my brother had separation anxiety. I'd call him… later, maybe before school started?

When school loomed and I moved into my shared dorm room a week before classes started, I took my cell out to stare at it in contemplative silence. I mean, it was my brother, I should at least call him, right?

Finally, I sighed and set the bulky cell phone on my side table next to my bed. In the end, I figured that it was probably a good idea to not have to deal with my brother being bitchy.

So, to pass the time, I decided to get a bit of a head start on all of my classes. My major was Political Science with a focus in Justice and American Government and Politics. Not exactly Pre-law, but as close as I could get. Half of the classes I took that semester were the common core requirements and I figured that I'd be able to get them out of the way quickly; especially during the summer.

I took out the paper that my advisor gave me denoting all of my classes and began to read through it. I was taking eighteen hours, so my schedule was pretty full and the first half of my Monday was going to be taken up by core classes. First class: Rhetoric and Comp 1; Second class: College Algebra; Third class United States History 1; and so on.

I grinned, set the page down on the side table, and went to retrieve my books. I wanted to be ready.

* * *

Monday came fast after my roommate arrived on the Sunday before classes started. He was a pre-med student named Brady and we hit it off pretty fast; especially when he realized that I was aiming for Law School. We compared schedules, realized we had the same Algebra class, and talked about our interests ranging from music to the types of sports we liked. Surprisingly enough, I did like sports and I enjoyed basketball even if I never actually played the sport.

My first class was going to be depressingly easy. I'd read through the first four chapters of the Rhet and Comp book already and had also taught myself how to write in high school with the help of interested English teachers and/or librarians. The teacher was interesting, though, and the syllabus he gave out showed the course schedule and promise that, though this class might be easy, it would be interesting.

Brady and I met for math and headed for one of the vacant tables in the front of the class where a girl with dirty blond hair sat sifting through her math textbook. A concentrated frown was on her face and I guessed from the way her brows furrowed that she was trying to read a bit of the first chapter.

Brady and I exchanged a look. It was a momentary challenge. Who was going to sit where next to the pretty girl? And she was pretty, I mean, she didn't look over the top hot or sexy or anything, but I kind of appreciated that. Apparently so did Brady.

We shrugged and decided to sit in either side of her. She glanced at Brady first then glanced at me. Brady grinned and I pretended to be completely focused while pulling out my math book. I wouldn't have been anyway, because at that moment I caught sight of her eyes. They were teal, and bright, and totally out of place where the rest of her body was concerned. They were exotic. They were mesmerizing. I was staring, mouth open and everything.

She gave me a scrutinizing stair for a moment before shaking her head and going back to her textbook. I heard her mutter something about "boys", but had been too mortified by just how incompetent I probably looked to her. When class finally started, I focused on the teacher and tried to forget about the fact that I probably looked like a gaping idiot.

The mortification didn't stop there. Apparently she was in the same history class as I was and the teacher was sift and to the point about what was required of them in her class. The lecture began immediately and I took out my spiral notebook, ready to take notes. She was a table across from me doing the same thing.

I focused on the class and resolved to not think about her again. I mean, it wasn't like I actually knew her. Hell, I didn't even know her name! So I resolved to go on with class and pretend that girls didn't exist much to Brady's amusement.

* * *

A month later, I experienced my first string of tests. I managed to pass all of them with either low or high A's. My math professor had been extremely pleased with my test grade and spoke to me after class about testing out of the course. I thanked her politely, but told her I wanted to stay. It kept my schedule filled out and, in any case, the add/drop period had been over for a while.

My history test was going to be that Wednesday and our teacher planned on going through the review that class period, threatening that she wouldn't end the class early. Apparently she expected everyone to study in class as well as outside.

The girl I embarrassed myself in front of on the first day of school, whose name I still didn't know, walked up to my table with a red flush across her cheeks. I blinked and forced myself not to look like an idiot again despite how cute she looked with the blush. Obviously she was embarrassed about something.

"Um hi, you're Sam Winchester, right?" she asked, "We sit next to each other in Algebra."

"Yeah, I know," I replied wondering why she felt the need to clarify.

She shifted and glanced to the side, jaw set. I realized that she was incredibly ridged and whatever she wanted to say made her uncomfortable. Finally, she reached into her bag, flicked out what I realized to be the math test I managed to ace, and almost (but not quite) slammed it down on the table. Confused, I glanced at the grade. I winced a moment later.

She got a forty-one. Ouch!

"Wow," I said then picked up the paper, "May I?"

She nodded and indicated the empty seat next to mine. I patted the bare table in front of the desired seat to let her know I didn't mind if she sat there. While she situated herself and took out her history notes I glanced through her work and found out why she failed.

I never imagined that it was actually possible to be dreadfully bad at math. I had always thought people like Dean were just lazy. Now I knew that I might actually owe my brother an apology. The girl with dirty-blond hair and the alluring teal eyes worked through each problem in an attempt to successfully make it through the test. She tried. She left not problem blank. It was just that over half of the answers (and work) were wrong. She managed formulas, I noticed. Formulas seemed to be her strong point. Normal sequence problems were littered with minor errors and she seemed to keep flipping the graphs this way and that. The whole final page devoted to Word problems showcased the worse of her mistakes. Problem solving seemed to be difficult for her.

I glanced at her. She wasn't stupid. I heard her participate in both the Math and History lectures. She seemed to make connections concerning theory and I had a feeling that, if I wanted her to explain the types and uses of the problems she was tested over, she'd give me a very good answer. And don't get me started on her knowledge of history. She and the teacher practically had a one way conversation going every class period with only two or three people joining in if they dared. She wasn't a moron, she just really couldn't figure out math.

"Well, um, so my last class ends at four and there's this coffee shop off campus that's pretty calm. You wanna meet me for tutoring?" I asked.

She didn't have to tell me she wanted me to tutor her. The grade on her test told me everything.

"My last one ends at three thirty so sure," she replied tersely.

Her posture, her demeanor, the way she seemed annoyed at having to ask for help; she reminded me of Dean. A sudden pang of homesickness thudded through my entire body; starting from my chest and spreading outward. I missed my brother and hadn't called him yet to see how he was doing. And with that thought, that homesickness turned into guilt; just because dad and I argued didn't mean that I had to ignore Dean.

So, I gave her the name of the coffee shop along with the address just as the professor walked into the room.

Despite myself, I found that I actually was anticipating the upcoming afternoon.

* * *

When I entered my usual hang out I saw her hunched over a huge textbook and pouring over notes. It took me a moment to realize that she was studying World History I. At that moment it struck me that I didn't know what her major was and resolved to ask either before or after I tutored her. I still didn't know her name, being the moron I was. I needed to ask her.

She looked up when I approached the table and sent a blink in my direction. I smiled.

"Hey, you ready?" I asked.

She nodded and closed her history book; stuffing the huge thing back into her bag and tugging out her math textbook in the process. We sat and stared at each other for a few minutes before I finally decided to break the silence.

"So, I didn't catch your name," I began mildly.

She rolled her eyes with though the corners of her lips twitched upward as if she was about to smile.

"Brianna Davis," she said.

Brianna. The name rolled over in my head and I decided that it fit. For some weird reason, she looked like a Brianna. It was a weird thought, but a thought nonetheless.

"Well, I guess you know my name," she gave me a look that invoked a smile to break across my face whether I wanted it or not, "and I looked at your test and you have a lot of weaknesses; especially in word problems."

She nodded, "I know. I managed to meet the minimum requirement in math in high school, so my grades remained high enough to attract Stanford."

I had wondered about that. This was good news, though, because it meant that I could work off of her baseline of understanding. We just had to ascertain that first.

"Why don't we backtrack for a moment? What do you remember from Elementary and Intermediate Algebra?" I asked.

She looked taken aback for a moment, but launched into an explanation. I was right. The woman could take in information like a sponge. Whether she understood it or not was another thing entirely. My mind raced through different ideas and scenarios of how to tutor her and the more she talked the more resolved I was to take her back to the basics. This especially when I realized she had memorized the lessons from our professor's notes and the chapters from the book. She even remembered the problems she had trouble with and could copy them down exactly.

In the end, until I could think of something else, I decided to just go over what she did wrong on the tests. As we did comparisons between mine and hers we both came to several conclusions. Numeric details were confusing for her. Sometimes her brain switched signs and numbers while she was doing the problem. She was easily distracted, easily overwhelmed, and easily confused; especially where word problems were concerned. She had a photographic memory, but she wasn't a mathematical genius. This meant that when a problem challenged her to think outside of the box she couldn't. The issues piled up to the point where I decided basics were a virtue. All of what she needed help on was her lack of understanding how the basics fit in to the larger puzzle piece. Admittedly, most teachers never taught in a way that showed the application and, if they did, they probably didn't dumb it down enough for her to make the connection.

I really hoped her major didn't involve her needing a lot of math. In the end, I asked her.

Brianna replied, "I'm a history major and I intend to go into archeological field work. My minor is in Linguistics."

The minor more than the major told me more about the way she thought than any sort of psychoanalysis ever could. I could work with this.

Once we finished going over the test we scheduled a new session for Wednesday afternoon and I left to go study for my two exams tomorrow and to also start planning what I would do to help Brianna out.

I called Dean after I got ready for bed. His phone only ringed once before he answered it.

"Sammy? You okay? Something wrong?" he asked immediately after his line opened.

I rolled my eyes. Overprotective was a gross understatement where Dean was concerned.

"I'm fine, bro, I just wanted to talk. See how you and dad are doing, you know?" I replied.

I anticipated his answer before it came.

"Dude," man he sounded pissed, "its been five friggin' months since I last saw you let alone heard from you! Didn't think to call earlier? You know, to keep me from freaking out?"

"Sorry Dean, I needed time to cool off and calling you was… I tried. Thought about it, even, but I couldn't bring myself to until today," I explained while knowing my excuse sounded lame.

I heard him snort on the other end of the line.

"Okay, what changed?"

I thought back to earlier today and remembered how Brianna reminded me of Dean with her reluctance to ask questions and her devastatingly bad math skills. They might not have been exactly the same as Dean's, but the reminder that, yes, I had a brother just made the fact that I pretty much abandoned my family all the more real.

"Something reminded me that I'm not mad at you, just dad," I replied.

"Oh."

And we were silent for a few moments. Dad was a sore topic for both of us. Our opinions of the old man were vastly different from each other's and it was sometimes best to just keep them to ourselves.

"You know I'm proud of you, right Sammy?" he asked.

I scowled. I didn't like it when he called me "Sammy", but didn't really want to correct him tonight. What he said was touching, something I had wanted to hear from dad and had been badly disappointed when I didn't.

"Yeah, I know. Thanks Dean," I replied with a small smile even though he couldn't see it.

"So, find any hot chicks?" he asked.

I snorted and was about to reply with a negative when a pair of teal eyes flashed across my memory. It gave me a pause. Well, it wasn't like she was hot, or anything, but…

I decided to force those thoughts into a screeching halt and banish them to the farthest corners of my mind. I was just tutoring Brianna and I needed to focus on my major. Dating would have to wait.

"Don't have much time for that," I muttered.

"Seriously? Not one girl? Man some things never change, do they?" he complained.

I rolled my eyes, "Shut up, jerk."

"Bitch."

We continued our banter until Brady came back from his study group in the library. When I finally said "goodbye" to Dean with the promise to call the next day, I met the calculating stare of my roommate.

"What?" I asked.

He shrugged, "Nothin' dude. Just wondering how your date with Brianna went."

I knew my face turned red but I ignored it in order to reply, "It wasn't a date. I'm helping her with math. She needs it. Seriously needs it."

He smirked, "Yeah, I know, I saw her grade."

"Anyway, I don't have much time to date anyone right now," I said.

He shrugged, "Your loss man. She's cute."

I rolled my eyes and turned over in my bed, ready to sleep.

* * *

Brianna and I met for the next month and a half. It took a while, but I managed to get her past what she needed to learn from the first test and constantly reviewed what we went over in class after. Sometimes, I had to go back to Elementary or Intermediate Algebra to help break things down for her, but she managed to get it in the end. When the second test came and went and we all got our results, her grade improved tremendously. As in, she actually passed the test with a seventy-nine.

I took her out to Red Lobster. She liked seafood and since she passed her first math test I felt that it was prudent to celebrate. It was a surprise to her. I had made it sound like we were just going to some every-day fast food joint, so when we drove into the Red Lobster parking lot she was shocked.

And I found the way her lips slightly parted and her eyes contracted to be incredibly endearing. As her lips parted into a full-blown grin my own face broke into a smile.

She turned to look at me and I was momentarily captured by her teal eyes. What was it about her eyes that I liked so much?

"What's this?" she asked.

I laughed, "Me letting you know just how good of a job you did."

Her brows furrowed and she asked, "Are you sure?"

I nodded, "Remember the coffee shop? I'm going to start working there next week."

That seemed to reassure her, assuming that her hang up was about the money, and she slipped out of the car and waited for me to follow.

It didn't take us long to get seated and I noticed that she was still grinning like a pleased Cheshire cat while glancing over the menu.

"What?" I finally asked.

She met my intrigued gaze with a mischievous glint and replied, "Seafood."

I laughed.

"How was your psychology test?" she asked after a few more seconds of perusing the menu.

I had a feeling that she already knew what she wanted and was just glancing at the thing to make sure she didn't want anything else.

"A little difficult. The entire test was handwritten with three essay questions about various psychological cases. Apparently this teacher likes to 'challenge' us," I explained.

She rolled her eyes, "I wish I had her as a philosophy professor. Our test was a boring multiple choice one with fifty questions."

"What about World History? I didn't get a chance to ask how that went on Monday," I inquired.

Her face lit up and I braced myself for what I knew would be a rapid stream of overenthusiastic information. She didn't disappoint.

"Our teacher gives us research projects instead of tests and I did mine on Early Greek culture. My professor liked the paper so much that she's going to publish it in this year's history journal! I mean, all I really wrote about was the formation of the city-states and their ties to their patron gods and goddesses, but I didn't think it was actually that good!" she was practically bouncing.

I chuckled and remembered the times I'd catch her working on the project before we began our tutoring session every Monday and Wednesday. She let me read through the first part of her essay and I had been surprised that someone who was fresh out of high school could write such a sophisticated and well-researched paper. I had asked her about what her English professors thought about her writing and she told me that she tested out of the core classes and planned on starting her linguistic courses next semester.

"Did you tell your mentor yet?" I asked, referring to her advising professor, Laurel Moruni.

She nodded, "She said, 'Glad to know all that scholarship money's paying off'!"

We both dissolved into fits of laughter. Professor Laurel Moruni was Brianna's financial benefactor and also was the new Professor of Ancient European Studies for Stanford's History Masters program. She joined the faculty this semester, the same time Brianna entered Stanford.

We continued from there, asking each other about how we were doing on our midterms and how prepared we felt for our final tests we had to take the next day. I explained about how my Introduction to Comparative Politics class ended up turning into a written essay about Communism vs Capitalism. Brianna made a snide comment about Karl Marx being "a sick-minded bastard" to which I laughed and allowed the conversation to ease into a political discussion.

When we first started discussing politics I had been very surprised at how knowledgeable she was about different aspects of government and law. She could explain the US Constitution very well, even managing to illustrate the "controversial" parts of the document as not being controversial at all and only seeming like it because modern day people didn't have the same grammar understanding that our Founding Fathers did. We debated gun control; she was against it and I was for it, then moved on to calmer waters when she asked how Brady was doing in pre-med.

"He's doing fine. Just aced his biology exam again," I replied.

She laughed, "Didn't he have a Rhet and Comp paper due the same day?"

I grinned, "Yeah, apparently he studied for the biology test while writing the paper. I can't believe he managed it, but he did."

She held up a finger, "Ah, but we haven't received word of his paper's grade! He might not have aced that."

"True, but I read a little bit of it and thought it was pretty well-written," I explained.

"Ah, that could help," she conceded.

There was a pause and I knew what she wanted to ask next and patiently waited for her to voice the question. It didn't offend me, but I knew that she had trouble wanting to broach the topic with me despite me saying she could ask whatever she wanted.

"How's your brother?" she asked.

"He's fine. Picked up a job in New Orleans recently," I said while leaving out the particulars of the job itself.

"Ooh! That's good! Still doing odd jobs?" she asked.

"Yep! The man stays in one place for a few weeks to a month then he moves on," I said.

Conversations about Dean didn't last long and I as sure as hell hadn't told Dean about her, but I was glad to have at least someone to talk to about my family. Brianna was more than accommodating and listened whenever I bitched about my dad or voiced some worry about Dean. She never allowed what she thought about the situation to be betrayed by her normally open face and always saved opinions or words of wisdom until after I was done venting. Most of the time, she'd just reach for one of my hands and grab them for a few moments.

We left at around eight. Her final test was apparently an easy one, so she didn't worry too much about studying for it. Mine, wasn't going to be easy, but it was in the afternoon so I figured I could divide my study time equally between the two. When I dropped her off at her dorm, I finally forced myself to voice the question I'd been wanting to ask her for a while.

"Hey Bri, um, I was wondering if you'd like to study at the coffee shop at eight? You know, maybe try to make studying there or at the library a regular thing?" I nearly cursed myself for sounding so timid and unsure.

She looked taken aback for a moment before she grinned at me for the millionth time that night. Again I was mesmerized by her eyes; those gleaming teal orbs I was starting to want to always sparkle brightly at me.

"Yeah, sure! You have my number, right? I case things come up?" she asked.

Struck by my luck, I replied, "Yeah, um, you have mine?"

She nodded and then laughed, "Well, I'll see you tomorrow then. Bye Sam!"

With that she was gone.

Brady was actually waiting for me when I made it back to our dorm room. He looked amused about something and I didn't realize that it was me until he opened his mouth.

"So, how was the date?" he asked.

I glanced at him, surprised, "What?"

He set his physics book down and pierced me with a knowing look, "You know, Brianna and a somewhat expensive restaurant? Did she like it? Was she surprised? Anything promising happen?"

I gaped at him for a moment before shaking my head, "Brady, that wasn't a date. I was just treating a friend."

"A friend that you happen to like more than a friend," he pointed out.

I rolled my eyes. I didn't have time for dating and relationships. Surely he knew that? Brianna did, because we had a conversation about the subject when she complained to me about some random stranger going up to her and asking her out. Neither of us were into dating.

"Brady, I don't feel that way about her, we're just friends," I said.

"Yeah, friends who study together on set dates. You seeing her again?" he asked.

I moved around, getting ready for bed, "Yeah, to study, nothing else."

"When?"

"Tomorrow."

I didn't have to turn around from where I was looking for my toothbrush and toothpaste to know that he was grinning at me.

"Suit yourself, bro, just keep me updated. Anyway, you didn't answer my other questions. Did she have a good time?" he asked.

"Well yeah, she did. She was smiling and joking around, so I think she enjoyed herself. I think she was just happy to get free seafood," I replied.

"So you paid for her?" I ignored the way he phrased that question.

"Yeah, because she worked so hard to improve her math grade," I clarified.

"Okay I believe you."

I didn't think he did, but I let the matter drop and left our room to brush my teeth in the shared bathroom on our floor.

Before I went to bed, I texted Dean to let him know how my day went. He replied by telling me how proud he was of me and that made me smile. At least that made three people.

**The End**


End file.
